Dying Days: Origins 2

by Armand Rosamilia

  "When I tell you to, throw the car in drive," Chris said quietly. He took a step to the car, one foot inches from the interior of the vehicle.

  The passenger door opened and someone stepped out. "Chris, it's me… Albert. There's been a misunderstanding back at the farm but we settled it. David and Cheryl are safe. They asked me to come back and get you and your family. Come on."

  Albert took a few steps and Chris could see he held a shotgun.

  "You want us to follow you?" Chris asked.

  Albert stopped walking. "Sure. Just swing the car around and we'll go back. You'll be staying with us for awhile. Safe and sound. David is already trying to claim the master bedroom but I told him you had little ones that need to be protected. Am I right?"

  Chris smiled and gave Albert a thumb's up. "Awesome. I knew this would turn out well. We'll follow you."

  When Chris got in the car, Jean was staring at him.

  "Drive," Chris said. "Now."

  "We're really not going to follow them, are we? You know it's a trap."

  Chris smiled. "No kidding. Straight ahead and put the pedal to the metal, please."

  Jean put the car in drive and took off, spinning the wheels on the dirt road. They were off like a shot, leaving the pickup behind.

  "Our lead won't last long. They have a faster vehicle and know the back roads of the county, I'm sure. The only thing we can hope for is we find David and Cheryl, or outrun them," Chris said. He opened up the glove compartment and took out the rest of the ammo he'd been given for the M249. He'd never shot a weapon like this and didn't know if there'd be a kickback or if he could shoot from a moving car. He hoped he didn't have to find out.

  "Here they come," Jean said.

  "Mommy, what's going on?"

  "Get down and keep your sister down," Jean said, her voice cracking. She looked at Chris. "We should've stayed home. We would be safe right now."

  "We'd be dead right now. Zombies have overrun our town and you know it. The only answer is to keep moving."

  Jean shook her head. "What if we never see David and Cheryl again? We can't survive on our own."

  Chris looked at the side mirror and saw the bouncing headlights through the dust kicked up by their car. "We really have no choice. Do we? David was nice enough to fill our trunk with food and supplies just in case something like this happened."

  "I don't want this to happen," Jean said quietly.

  Neither do I, Chris thought. He needed to step up and protect his family and kill the old man in the truck and whoever was with him. Even if it meant doing it in front of his two little girls.

  Chris heard a gunshot and, from the looks of Jean, she'd heard it, too.

  "Don't drive in such a straight line," Chris said. "Weave back and forth. Yeah. No, not that much, we're going too fast and we'll flip."

  "Do you want to drive?"

  He wanted to say yes but thought better of it. "You're doing fine. If you can turn anywhere, feel free. I'm sure David can track our path."

  "What if David is… gone?" Jean asked.

  "He's not," Chris answered quickly. "He's too smart not to have our backs. He knows we need him, and he'd never abandon us. No matter how much I screw up."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself," Jean said. She cut the wheel into a turn and the back end of the car fish-tailed but she spun the steering wheel and corrected her forward momentum.

  "Where'd you learn to drive like that?" Chris asked, genuinely impressed. Jean was the PTA mini-van mom, not the daredevil driver.

  "Chicago," Jean said.

  The pickup truck was still behind them. Jean switched back onto a dirt road that was really a path between corn rows.

  "I don't think we're supposed to be driving on this," Chris said, realizing how stupid it sounded. Who was going to stop them?

  "We're not going to outrun them," Jean said. "And we don't have enough gas. We need to do something." She looked at her husband and frowned. "You need to do something, Chris."

  He looked down at the weapon in his lap before nodding. "Hold it steady if you can."

  Chris rolled the window down and took off his seatbelt.

  "Be careful," Jean said.

  Chris nodded. "When I say so, veer off to your left but keep the car steady. It will give me a better shot." He had no idea if he'd even be able to shoot the M249 without the recoil throwing him out the car window, but there was no time to test it.

  He was about to go when a blast shattered the rear window of the car, spilling shards of glass onto his girls. They both began to scream.

  His first thought was to calm the girls but he knew he didn't have the time right now. He needed to fight fire with fire. "Do it," he yelled to Jean and ducked awkwardly out the window.

  As soon as he did, a bullet bounced off the roof and past his face, inches from the mark. Chris aimed and pulled the trigger, the shot disappearing behind him into the night. He was thrown back but managed to keep his balance, aware he was in a precarious position but he couldn't really help it.

  He fired again, getting the feel of the M249 in his hands and using the car to prop the weapon against for a better shot. The blast definitely hit the pickup truck in the front end, because he saw the spark and a small fire flash at high speed.

  But they kept in pursuit, and Jean was yelling something.

  Chris ducked back inside just as two shots zipped past his side and he was aware they would have both hit him if he'd still been leaning out of the car.

  "What's the matter?" he asked Jean.

  She pointed ahead. "End of the road. I'm going to cut either left or right and hope they don't see the barrier until it's too late, but I didn't want to throw you out of the car."

  "I think you saved my life by shouting," Chris said.

  Jean gripped the steering wheel with both hands and sat up in her seat. "Girls, mommy needs you to stop crying and yelling and get on the floor. Can you do that for mommy? Hold on."

  The car shook as it veered to the left, front bumper scraping against the guardrail before righting itself and finding traction with all four wheels.

  Jean yelled in delight but Chris already knew without looking: the pickup truck had slammed into the guardrail behind them.

  "Should we stop?" Jean asked.

  "Hell no. Keep driving. We need to put some distance between us and them. What if they survived? They'll be pissed and I'm sure they can shoot better than I can."

  "I'll try to double back to our original spot and find David and Cheryl," Jean said. She stopped at the next intersection, an actual road running left and right. "Which way?"

  Chris looked down both dark paths. "I have no idea."

  Jean turned to her daughters, both huddled together on the floor behind them. "Girls, what do you think? Left or right?"

  One said left and the other said right.

  Jean sighed and looked in the rearview mirror again. "Nothing behind us." She looked both ways. "We're going left."

  Chapter Ten

  "Where are they?" Cheryl asked as they drove up to the spot where they'd left Chris and his family. "Seriously?"

  "Don't move," David said and stepped out.

  "Be careful."

  David smiled. She worried too much. What was the worst that could happen? He realized he was trying to amuse himself and was going to jinx it, so he shut off the stupidity part of his brain and went to the front of the vehicle, looking at the road.

  He got back in and shook his head. "They took off. There's another set of tire tracks I didn't see this afternoon. I'm sure Albert came out here to kill them. We need to follow and find them before Albert and the militia runs Chris off the road."

  "And before the militia finds us," Cheryl said. "Or we run out of gas."

  "We're in jeopardy of both of them happening very soon," David said.

  Cheryl began driving down the road slowly. "What if they turned off at an upcoming intersection, or into the field?"

  David knew she'd left other options
unsaid. If Chris was cornered and forced to defend his family, David hoped the man had the balls to step up and do it. He'd left the Everson family with enough ammo and supplies for a few days, but wasn't very confident Chris and Jean would last too long if they had to fend for themselves.

  Cheryl leaned forward on the steering wheel, watching the road. "Driving at twenty miles an hour is more annoying than I thought."

  "I didn't think you had it in you," David said. He kept looking into the side mirror, expecting headlights behind them at any moment. "I'm going to switch our guns out, if you don't mind."

  "Give me the Kimber 45's," Cheryl said. "I'm most accurate with a pair of them."

  David had to agree. Cheryl would amaze people on the shooting range when she had both of them out. "I'm going to load the AR-15 and cut down anything in my way."

  Cheryl laughed. "We make such a cute prepper couple."

  "Agreed."

  Cheryl slowed down and pointed, David following where she was looking. Tire tracks veered off the road and into the field. "That can't be good."

  "Go really slow. If they were run off the side of the road, they'll be in sight in seconds." David hurried and loaded the AR-15 from the backseat, putting Cheryl's Kimber 45's on the console between them. "You're locked and loaded."

  They drove in silence, the truck bouncing on the dirt path and flashing the headlights up and down, but all they saw was a dirt road and tire tracks.

  "Stop for a second," David said.

  Cheryl took her foot off the gas and they coasted before she hit the brake.

  David climbed through the window and put his hand on the top of the truck, scanning the horizon with the scope of the AR-15. There were no dust clouds and he didn’t see headlights in front of them. Wait…

  He adjusted the scope and aimed at the thin light, at first thinking it was a trick of the moonlight filtering through the field. But the light wasn't natural. A thin headlight through an adjacent field?

  David got back in and pointed. "I see a headlight in the distance. Stopped. It should be easy to find."

  The couple passed a look between them. A stopped car was not a good sign.

  "Tell me how far before I can turn off our headlights. I don't want to announce us in case it’s the bad guys," Cheryl said.

  "I don’t think we have far to go. Shut them off and slow down," David said.

  "If I slow any more, I'll need to walk next to the car to get anywhere," Cheryl said but took her foot off the gas. "Is it still in this field?"

  "No. I think there's probably a break before the next field. Maybe they ran into a ditch or a water runoff. But just in case it isn't Chris and Jean, I don't want to roll right up to them and ask if they need help," David said.

  "Whoever it is probably saw us by now, anyway." Cheryl stared ahead for a few more feet before shutting off the lights. "I think I can coast us close enough to them, as long as you tell me when we get close to them."

  "Not too much further. Another hundred feet and then let off the gas for good and roll us to a stop," David said.

  "What's your gut telling you?"

  "This isn't Chris and his family. Either it is a happy coincidence we have other people out here in the middle of nowhere with us, or the militia is setting a trap. But I do know one thing… I haven't seen a damn zombie in hours," David said.

  "Do you miss them, hun?"

  "Not quite. Maybe staying in Iowa is an option," David said. "We can't go north right now. If we keep heading south, we keep heading further and further away from the bunker. We might be too far already."

  "Iowa is not the answer. I think we should keep heading south until we hit somewhere safe. I've always wanted to visit Florida again. Remember how much fun we had in St. Augustine?" Cheryl let the truck coast to a stop and tapped the brake, throwing it in park and shutting off the engine. She lifted both of the Kimber 45's and looked at her husband.

  "St. Augustine was nice. And with the fort and the bridge in and out, it could be a perfect base of operations. If the zombies are coming from Canada and the north, maybe they won't even reach as far south as Florida. Or maybe the government will setup a blockade in Georgia or further north to stop the advance. Florida could be a safe zone right now," David said. He liked the idea of getting somewhere with rules and structure and maybe electricity again. Once the zombie apocalypse had run its course, they could return home or keep heading north to the bunker. It would take a long time for the structure of life as they knew it to return to normal. In the meantime, they could live comfortably in the woods without anyone bothering them.

  "We abandon everything?" Cheryl asked.

  "Not forever. From what I've seen, the zombies are falling apart, right? Bloody and missing limbs from fights. You shoot them in the head and they stay dead. I'm sure they'll starve themselves once the bulk of the human race has been diminished or gone into deep hiding," David said.

  "You talk like it's nothing. We're talking about being added to the endangered species list, you know."

  "I do know. Trust me… I'm not saying it lightly. But regardless, you and I will survive." David checked his weapon one more time as Cheryl let the truck roll off to the side and into a corn row.

  "What's the plan?" Cheryl asked.

  "I'll head straight towards them with night vision and my scope. You circle to the right and try to come up behind them, but stay a good distance so I still have a good shot if I can take it."

  Cheryl nodded. "And, if you take it, I'll move in on a three count, so I don't get killed. If it isn't Chris, it's either Albert and one other gunman, or something we have yet to encounter."

  "That about sums it up," David said. He watched as his wife took a pair of night vision goggles from the truck. "Good luck, baby."

  Cheryl nodded and was off in a jog, staying off the road so she didn't kick up dust or kick something and announce her approach.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was Albert and another man, both bleeding, but alive. They were crouched not far from the crashed pickup truck, hiding in a ditch with rifles drawn.

  David scanned the area and could see the heat source of Cheryl moving slowly but steadily. She'd be in place within two minutes.

  Where were Chris and his family? David hoped he was long gone, and this crash had nothing to do with him. Maybe they'd hit a zombie or whoever was driving was just a bad driver. Maybe there were too many other options available. Regardless, David had them both in his sights. And it was obvious they'd seen the Ford F-150 SVT Raptor headlights approaching and had to know it was them.

  But they were ill-prepared. They had no protection other than the rifle they carried, and the scope was useless in the dark when David was crouched and in hiding, especially off to the left of where they expected his approach.

  When David had heard the first newscasts and knew zombies were real and here, he'd known exactly what they needed to do. This was the mindless enemy sent to kill his family. Zombies were no longer humans. They didn't think and make choices other than follow their hunger. Zombies weren't going to be magically turned back into their former selves anytime soon, and they weren't going to get better.

  But, as David stared down the scope of his AR-15 and put his finger near the trigger, it dawned on him he was about to kill a living person. Someone who was also fighting the same un-breathing enemy he was.

  But they'd made their choice by luring them back to the farm to kill and take what was theirs. Albert hadn't tried to talk to them and get the group to join with his militia and family. Instead, he was going to lure them back so his children could shoot David and do God knew what to Cheryl before snuffing out her life.

  These men were the enemy, the same as the zombies. The same as every man with a rifle aimed in his direction, during his military tours, as well. You couldn't reason with Albert and his crew. Even now, they were holed up and waiting to ambush anyone coming down the road while they rested.

  Where are you, Chris?

  David
checked for Cheryl one more time. She was a little closer than he was comfortable with, but knew he wasn't going to hit her unless he completely missed wide. That wasn't going to happen.

  Now, who to kill first?

  David decided to knock off the other guy so Cheryl could move in and take Albert alive, if possible. He'd shoot and then she'd count before moving. The shot might also spook Albert into running, which would be nice.

  He got the man in his crosshairs and put his finger on the trigger and gave it a tug, the blast bucking but true on the mark, a spray of blood where the top of the man's head had been seconds ago.

  David turned to see Albert had ducked down wisely, but he wasn't running.

  Cheryl was on the move but a gun flash appeared where Albert was and the sound of the shot. His wife went down and David panicked until he saw her give a thumb's up in the dark, knowing he was watching her.

  Albert had blindly fired in her general direction when he heard her stalking him.

  David shot at the area where Albert was crouched, counting three seconds between shots. Cheryl used the noise and shots to run closer to Albert.

  They'd practiced these maneuvers so many times on the weekends it had all become muscle memory for both. David saw Cheryl stop and aim one of her 45's.

  He heard the shot and then Cheryl was running towards Albert's spot, firing twice more. David jumped up and began running down the road, scanning the field for any movement.

  Cheryl dragged Albert out of the spot where he was hiding and pushed him against the ruined pickup truck. Both of his legs had been shot and he was moaning in pain.

  "Nice shot. I heard three, though,' David said with a laugh. He shined a flashlight on Albert's contorted face.

  "The second was a warning shot. He dropped the rifle. Then I shot him in the other leg because I don't really like him," Cheryl said.

  "I can't say I blame you." David smiled at his wife. "Do you want to do the honors?"